Essential Anthems for a Higher Education
by VoodooPal
Summary: Major AU. The next generation kids, with no family relation to one another, attend Hogwarts University. Prologue in chapter one explains it all. AU, SMxRW. Rated T for now, but will change later.
1. Chapter 1

_Essential Anthems for a Higher Education. It had begun as a list of songs we wrote down in freshman year. We being Albus, James, Hugo, and of course myself. The one and only Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy._

_Its beginnings were harmless enough. We were working a Tuesday night shift at _The Alternative_, but the bar was dead. So, out of boredom, we scribbled down some songs on a crumpled napkin that were essential to any university student's academic career. James anonymously posted it on the bulletin board, and people actually read it. More than that, they liked it. Soon enough, we were posting other things. It sort of became a how to manual for not just surviving university, but enjoying it. Best places to eat on campus, how to throw a great party, even how to execute the perfect break up. _

_After posting these tips for a while, we resolved to compile our findings and make a book. Complete with pictures, instructional diagrams, quotes, and personal experiences, we decided to keep the name we had originally titled the napkin with: _Essential Anthems for a Higher Education_._

_Needless to say, we couldn't post an entire book on our trusty bulletin board, nor could we admit to writting it at all (due to some of the less than legal content). Still, we felt the need to get it out to our fellow scholars. We've spend the past three years doing so. Now, in senior year, I can't help but wonder if we should have written it at all. It's allowed for some laughs, I'll be the first to admit that, but it's brought several close calls. The most recent of which being the worst blow, for me at least. Now, for the sake of the Anthems, I risk loosing one of the most important people in my life. But this story is one best told from the beginning. So, let me take you back to my freshman year at Hogwarts University._


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: It has recently come to my attention (via Wikipedia) that generally speaking, people in the UK do not use the terms 'freshman', 'sophomore', 'junior', or 'senior'. Since my fanfiction is indeed based in Scotland, it throws my story off a little. I won't change it in my first chapter, because I am far too lazy, but from here on out I will refrain from using them. Instead, I will use first year, second year, third year, and fourth year, respectively. And if anyone wonders, 'freshers', 'form 1', and 'first form' are just another of saying first year. Happy reading!

*****

I breathed in the late summer air as I gazed up at the gates of Hogwarts University. Located in the small city of Hogwarts, Scotland, it was a time honoured tradition for the members of the Malfoy clan to pursue a post secondary education here. The influence of my family was enough to secure a dorm in the old part of the school. The particular building which would be my home for the next year was four floors of historic stone, covered in lush ivy. On either side stood similar buildings, each flanked by several old alder and elm trees.

"Pardon me, Mister Malfoy." I looked around to see if the chauffeur was addressing me, or my father. Apparently me, as father stood with mother several feet away. I stepped away from the trunk of the 1947 Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith so the wheezy little man could pull out my luggage.

"Look, Mr. Cole, you don't have to do that. I think I can handle it."

He looked at me wide eyed and nearly dropped the trunk he was fumbling with. "A Malfoy, carrying his own luggage." Shaking his head firmly, he tried to discard the thought. "Nonsense. Just you enjoy the scenery for a moment. This is an important day. I'll have your belongings upstairs in a jiff."

"Mr. Cole, really I've got this."

Truthfully, I wasn't just trying to be nice. I didn't want my roommates (or anyone for that matter) to find out I was rich. People treat you differently when they know. They make presumptions about the kind of person you are, and I certainly don't fit the typical rich boy stereotype. I like fast food, I prefer shooting pool to playing polo, and I've never accepted the formal way of talking that countless teachers (including my parents) have failed to impose upon me.

"Scorpius, let the poor man do his job." Father strode over, not happy exactly, but certainly content.

"Look," I said sighing, "I don't wanted everyone to know that I'm rich. Not yet anyway. I think it would be better if I just went up on my own."

He looked at me incredulously. "You, Scorpius, are a _Malfoy_. Even if you try to _disguise_ your lineage," he used his chin to gesture at my brown t-shit and dark washed jeans (inappropriate by Malfoy standards), "someone is bound to connect your last name with the fact that your are more than well off."

He was hissing his words, which was always a good indication that he was slightly pissed. Thankfully, mother came over and rubbed his shoulder, relaxing him instantly. I figured it was safe to talk again.

"Father, you know I'm proud to be a Malfoy," not exactly a lie. I certainly wasn't ashamed of it. "I just don't feel comfortable flaunting my money. Well, your money. I just want to enjoy the university experience for a little bit, just like any normal guy."

Father slid his pale hands into his the pockets of his black velvet jacket. "Do as you like."

Mr. Cole feverishly heaved the rest of the luggage out of the trunk, no doubt hoping I wouldn't rob him of this task, too.

"Might as well say goodbye here, then. You know, before the Roll-Royce attracts anymore unwanted attention."

Sure enough, the luxurious car was turning many heads. Father was kidding, but he was actually right on the mark. In my head I prayed no one would discover my little secret, especially this early on. On the outside I just forced a convincing laugh. My father pulled me in for a man-hug, which included two hard whacks on the back.

"We probably won't be back home tonight, but call in the morning and tell us how you got settled in." Father finally released me from the gripping embrace and allowed Mr. Cole to open the door of the car for him. Then mother rushed up and took my face in her small hands. Like there had been for much of the morning, she had tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Scorpius, you've grown up so fast." Her sad eyes glistened as she gazed up to my face. She laughed a little, embarrassed, and wiped the escaping tears away. "Promise you'll call often. And send an e-mail once in a while."

I pulled my mother in for once final hug. "I love you, mum."

Even though I couldn't see her face, I could tell she was smiling when she said, "I love you, too, Scorpius."

"Astonia," my father's call came from the car, ringing of his slight impatience.

"Don't worry about him. He's just upset your leaving. I'll talk to him later," she whispered by my shoulder. I knew it was true. My father was never very good at communicating his emotions, so whenever he felt something he couldn't express naturally, he reacted with sarcasm and a short temper.

Mr. Cole opened the door graciously for my mother. After assisting her, he open his own door and slid himself in with an ease not expected of such a stout, middle aged man. I watched the shiny black car disappear behind a grey brick building before I discovered I had a bit of a problem.

I had two small trunks and a backpack to carry up three floors. Other students were swarming the street, for the most part accompanied by their parents. I swung the backpack over my shoulder and only then did I turn my attention to the trunks. I didn't really want to leave one, but at the same time, I couldn't exactly wave a magic wand and and make one follow me up the stairs. I sighed, defeated, and hauled one of them up into my arms. It was heavy and awkward to carry, and difficult to get a grip on, but I figured I should get it over with as soon as possible so I could come back for the other.

As I turned, the trunk pressed uncomfortably into my stomach, a hand clasped my shoulder from behind.

"I think you forgot one, friend." When I looked back, I saw, what was undoubtedly a fellow first year. He was a few inches shorter than my 6"2. Maybe 5"9. He had messy, black hair and thick black glasses. He held out a hand. To clasp it I had to drop half of the trunk. He let out a good natured laugh.

"Here, let me give you a hand." He swung the other trunk on to one of his shoulders as I struggled to lift the half of mine which I dropped.

"Jesus, I feel so emasculated. You must be built like a fucking tank."

He laughed again. "Swimming, son. Swimming."

"You swim? Competitively?"

"Yeah. Front crawl. Builds upper body strength like you would not believe. I started in high school to meet girls, but then I found out I was actually good at it."

I was laughing as I said, "Yeah, I tried that. Joined the choir."

"You're kidding?"

"No, but the music instructor pretty much asked me to leave with in a week. I was dreadful."

My new companion's grinning face sobered up once he saw the line for the building's elevator. "Stairs it is, I guess. What floor you on?"

"Third."

"Yeah? What room?"

"C 17."

He turned to me, eyes wide with excitement and wearing a lopsided smile. "No shit!"

"Oh, you're kidding?! You too?"

"Yeah. I think we have some celebrating to do tonight, my friend."

"Can you guys please hurry up? This stuff is heavy."

We both looked behind us. My newfound room mate missed a step and almost fell down. I sniggered, but addressed the girl instead. Her ginger hair was pulled up into a messy bun. Her skin was pale, and her cheeks were lightly covered with freckles. In her arms was a single, bright orange suitcase, which had wheels.

"Pardon me, Madame," I said, bowing as much as the trunk I was carrying would allow. "Had I known I was int he presence of such loveline-"

"Save it," she said rolling her soft brown eyes. She pushed past, elbowing me in the side as she did so.

But I was determined not to give up. Recovering quickly from the slight abuse, I leaped two stairs at a time to catch up with her.

"You know, violence really isn't the answer."

"_You_ know, I thought I left scum like you back in high school."

"Well, life's full of surprises, isn't it?" I could tell she was trying to suppress a smile as she threw open the door to the third floor. She dropped her suit case and allowed it to trail behind her.

"Look, I 'm out of your league, so just give it up. And how about you and your little friend quit following me."

"You hear that?" I asked, calling over my shoulder to my room mate. "Well, little Miss. Conceited," I said, turning back to her, "it just so happens that we are not following you, we are simply trying to get to our dorm room."

She snorted. "Sure." Damn, this girl walked fast.

"It's true. As a matter of fact, its right here." I gestured at the door to room C 17.

"Oh, God. You've got to be kidding me." She tossed her head in the direction of room C 18.

"Great!" I said. "I'll see you around then." She grumbled something as she unlocked her door. She was about to go in, but suddenly, I stopped her.

"Hey, wait! I didn't get a name."

"And you probably won't"

"That's not very neighbourly. And I'm going to find out eventually, so you might as well tell me yourself."

She sighed "Lily Luna," and then she slammed the door behind her, barely getting her orange suitcase in.

"My name's Scorpius," I shouted through the wood. I swear I could hear her say 'great' in a completely unenthusiastic tone.

"Scorpius?" My black haired room mate laughed. He had finally caught up, still carrying my trunk and his own on either shoulder, as well as two duffel bags.

"Yeah, and your own fantastic name would be...?"

"James II Sirius Potter. Now open the bloody door before my limbs drop off."

"Certainly." I went to unlock it, but somebody had beaten me too. Instead I just pushed it open and held it there with my foot long enough for James to come in.

"Not bad." The floors were of heavily varnished hardwood. It appeared as though each of us would have our own room, because there was four of them. There was only one bathroom, but I could deal with that. The four bedrooms and single bathroom all joined at one main room, which was complete with a couch and two chairs. Also in the middle room was a thin, bronze haired boy, who was setting up a television set. He looked up at us.

"Hey!" He got up off the floor as we threw down our bags. Wimping his hands on his jeans, he came over to James and myself.

He offered out his hand. "Hugo."

"James."

"Scorpius."

"Sick name."

I smiled. "Thanks." Hugo, who was about as tall as James, had very large, strong hands. It was somewhat of a relief to feel blood rush through my own again once our hands broke apart from the gripping shake.

"I already took farthest bedroom on the left. I hope you don't mind."

"Dibs on farthest right, then," I claimed before James had a chance to make up his mind.

"I'll take nearest right, I guess."

"That leaves me with closest left then?"

We all looked to the front hallway. A dark haired boy stood there. I say boy because he looked at least a year younger than the rest of us. His clothes were loose fitting and he, like James, had messy hair. His eyes, which were green, were particularly intriguing.

"Albus," he huffed, dragging in his luggage.

I prepared for another handshake and introduction.


End file.
